


Ramble On

by stars28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:06:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars28/pseuds/stars28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After learning his lesson a year earlier - when he'd tried to make Dad go back so he could say bye to his friends - Dean had stopped trying to make friends. After all, what was the point? He'd be gone in a few weeks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ramble On - Part 1.

* * *

 

Dean got out of the car, swinging his bag onto his back, and shut the door carefully. He watched as Sam got out of the Impala. Dad drove off with only a sharp, _"Look after your brother Dean!"_ Dad had a job to do, so Dean forgave him for not really saying goodbye.

"C'mon Sammy!" He said, waiting for his brother, "It's the first day!"

He started to walk with Sam next to him towards the new school. Dean looked forward to this one. Maybe he wouldn't get kicked out after half a month. Or, he thought, looking at the kids around, maybe he would. But then again, who would look after Sam at school, if he wasn't at school? Dean sighed, he couldn't get kicked out.

"That's exactly the point Dean," Sam replied, "The first day. Again. This is the third school this year and it isn't even March yet!"

"And? That's our life, Sam, you know that. Dad's job takes us everywhere." Dean said, evenly, opening the door and letting Sam go through first. His eyes took in the bustling hallway, especially the cheerleaders huddled next to the lockers. He saw them look at him, sizing him up silently, and offered them a cheeky wink and a grin.

"We've got to go to the office Dean," Sam said, tugging at his arm, "To get our timetables."

"Oh, yeah. Sure."

* * *

After the first day - which was painfully boring - Dean gave up on attending most of his classes (he went to PE, maths and chemistry, but that was it), preferring to spend the time in the nearest closet with the cheerleader of the day. It was always a different one, and it was wonderful, because none of them cared that he was clearly seeing a different one every time he went into the closet.

But it didn't soothe the loneliness that had been embedded in Dean's soul since he was young.

* * *

"Dean?"

"What's' up squirt?" Dean said, looking up and clapping his brother on the shoulder as he sat next to him. With a sudden realisation, he realised that his 'little' brother was growing quickly, quicker than he liked.

"How... How..." Sam blushed, much to Dean's amusement, "How do you... impress a girl?"

"Awww... Has Sammy got a crush?" Dean was his older brother, teasing him was in the rulebook. He smirked when Sam's entire face went bright red, "And he wants to impress her, how cute." He lent over and pinched Sam's cheeks.

"Stop it!" His brother batted his hands away, looking around see if anyone had noticed, "Just...tell me."

"Well, first off, don't be like me if you really like this girl - what's her name anyway?"

"Don't be like you?" Sammy sounded confused, "But you always get girls."

"Exactly," Dean watched as his little brother's face scrunched up in confusion, and thought he better put him out of his misery, "What I mean is, I just use the girls I'm with, I don't really like them that much. So, seeing as you like this girl, you need to be nice and...charming I guess."

His brother nodded, confusion gone from his face, and he jumped up from the bench.

As Sam ran off, Dean yelled, "And use those puppy-dog eyes!"

Dean was sure Sam was blushing, even from this far away. He chuckled. This girl must be really special if Sam asked him for help. He hoped, for Sam's sake, that she was.

* * *

He was behind the school, with a girl. Dean had his hands on her hips and his lips pressed to her neck. He sunk his teeth into her soft skin and heard her moan quietly as she pushed herself against him. Dean grinned against her skin, this was better than being in class.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?!"

He let go of the cheerleader, backing away from the teacher who'd caught them. His back hit the wall they'd been making out against, and he turned and ran away, leaving the blonde cheerleader to stutter an excuse for herself.

He smirked as he hit the crowds going to their classes, as the bell had just rang. Dean slouched as he meandered along to the corridor, so the teacher couldn't see him.

"Dean? What are you doing?"

He looked up from the floor. It was Sam.

"Hey Sam. Uh... nothing." Dean lied. He felt kind of bad lying to his brother, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"You're lying!" Sam accused him.

Dean blinked, "No, I'm not."

"You are!"

"Am not!"

"You are!"

"I'm not!" Dean groaned as Sam opened his mouth again, and he cut him off, "Shut up Sam! I'm not doing anything!"

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder, "Exactly."

"Son of a bitch." He muttered as the teacher led him away.

* * *

Dean ended up having detention for the rest of the time while they were in that school. But fortunately for him, his Dad finished his hunt by the end of that week, and they were leaving by the Saturday morning.

Dean was riding shotgun, due to his eternal shotgun being called as soon as they started, and his brother was in the backseat. _His fault,_ Dean thought, turning the music up a notch, _for not being quicker off the mark._ Last time Dean looked back at him, his brother had fallen asleep.

"Where are we heading now Dad?" He asked, turning his head slightly to look at Dad curiously.

"Austin, Texas. Shtriga in the area," Dad grunted, meeting Dean's eyes briefly, "Dropping you off at Bobby's first."

He nodded - Dad had apparently learnt from that time in Wisconsin (Dean never wanted to repeat that) - before staring out of the window at the fields flying past.

* * *

"Bobby!" Sam yelled as he ran down the drive towards the house.

Dean followed his brother, but at a much more sedate pace, carrying his and Sam's bags, seeing as Sam forgot his in the excitement of seeing Uncle Bobby again. It had been about three months since their last stay.

And he had to admit, he was glad to be staying with Bobby again. It beat doing the seemingly endless cycle of waking up, going to school, coming back and staying in the motel room, looking after Sam. He never told Dad that he got bored off constantly looking after his brother, he was almost twelve and had had the same training as Dean himself. So he - wisely - kept his mouth shut.

"Hey Bobby," He said as he entered the house, dumping the bags on the floor, "Sam! You forgot your bag so I brought it for you!"

"Thanks Dean!" Sam exclaimed, turning and smiling at him.

Dean found himself smiling back, damn those dimples!

"How are you Dean?" Bobby asked before pulling him into a hug.

He let go of Bobby, silently admitting to himself that no one but Sam gave him hugs, and that it was nice to have a hug not from his brother. As he answered Bobby, Dean heard the front door slam shut. Dad had entered.

"Why don't you go into the kitchen with Sam?" Bobby said, pressing his hands gently to Dean's shoulders.

He let himself be directed into the kitchen, away from the argument that he was sure Dad and Bobby were going to have. When he'd shut the door and sat down to watch Sam do whatever it was that he was doing, he heard the all too familiar sounds of Dad and Bobby whisper-yelling. It happened every time they stayed at Bobby's.

"Hey squirt," He said, peering at what Sam was doing, "What you doing?"

"I'm doing my maths homework."

"What's the point? We'll never go back to that school ever again. Give yourself a break Sammy."

"But I like doing it!" Sam protested.

Dean shook his head, giving up. Only his brother could find doing homework fun. He, however, prefered to fix cars and make out with girls. It was better than doing homework for a school he'd never set foot in again.

* * *

Dean was fixing a car for Bobby in the shed. Yesterday, after Dad had left angrily (that always seemed to be how Dad left Bobby's), they'd had _proper_ food. They'd only eaten diner food since...well, last time they'd been at Bobby's. He hated to admit it, but it was true.

"Hey Dean."

"Hi Bobby." He said, wheeling himself from underneath the car.

"You're doin' a good job on the car." Bobby said.

"Thanks!" He smiled at Bobby. It was nice to be praised for something he'd done by himself. That didn't happen very often with his Dad.

* * *

By the end of the month, they went from Bobby's safe haven, where they could have a fun playing with Bobby's dogs (not that Dean played with them...much), to being back on the road again in the Impala.

He was staring out of the window. They were somewhere in Maine, travelling towards a vampire nest. His Dad wanted his help clearing it out. Shouldn't take long, according to Dad. Dean didn't believe him. These things always seemed simple, but there was always a catch, even if it wasn't obvious.

* * *

"Dean! Shoot it!" His Dad yelled, running away from the one vampire that had escaped the fire they had set on the rest of the nest.

Dean had been right - there was always, _always_ a catch. This one happened to be running right at him.

His fingers were steady on the crossbow trigger, like he'd been trained for this - well, he _had_ been - and he shot the silver-tipped arrow straight into the vampire's heart. He watched as it fell to the floor.

After burning the corpse in the woods, Dean went to the Impala with his Dad, feeling proud that he'd saved Dad's life.

Hunting was going to be his life from now on.


	2. Ramble On - Part 2

When Dean turned seventeen, he did what everyone else in his year was doing at the time - he applied for collage and university. He didn't expect to get any replies, not with his terrible behaviour record and the multiple schools he'd attended over the years.

So when an envelope appeared through the letterbox of the rented house in Helena, Montana, Dad had got for next to nothing, Dean was surprised and a little bit pleased.

He shoved it in his jean pocket as he went back to the kitchen and forgot about it.

* * *

About a month later, Dean was collecting their mucky clothes for a wash after a particularly dirty hunt. It had been a wendigo in the woods, and he and Sam had both slipped over more than once, due to the fact that it had rained heavily the night before, making the ground underfoot slippery.

"Dad, I'm going to the laundry." He said, holding up the two bulging bags of dirty washing so his Dad could see them from his place hunched over his journal.

"Ok, don't be long, remember you've got to pick Sam up from school." His Dad said, not looking up from what he was writing.

Dean left the motel room and walked to the laundry. It took him about fifteen minutes to get there. This had become his job after a hunt or if they just needed clean clothes, having got fed up with wearing the same filthy clothes over and over. Since they had moved to Tucson, Arizona, Dad had...forgotten to enrole him in school. That made Dean sad, that his Dad could so easily forget about his oldest son, but he guessed it was kind of intentional (he hoped). He wasn't exactly the model student that his brother was, he skipped a lot of lessons, and plus, this way he could help out more with hunting.

He went over to the washing machine and began to load the clothes into it. Halfway through loading, he found an envelope. After putting the letter in his hoodie pocket, Dean put the washing powder in the tray at the top of the machine and turned it on.

Once the washer was on, Dean opened the envelope. He blinked, shocked. It was the letter from Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It read:

_Dear Mr. Winchester,_

_We are pleased to be able to accept you in our Maths course. We expect to hear from you no later than the end of July, on whether you will be accepting your place..."_

It went on, but Dean didn't focus on that. He had got into MIT. Of all the places he'd applied to - thanks to the pushing of his teacher at his last school - only one had replied. He couldn't believe it.

By the time the washer had finished its cycle and Dean had put all the washing in the dryer, he was still in shock. Surely it was a fake, because there was no way he'd got into, but the more he looked at the letter, the more Dean was convinced it wasn't a fake.

Aware that he was grinning like a madman, he collected their dry clothes from the tumble dryer, folded it and put it back into the bags. He began the walk to the motel, with the piece of paper in his pocket. It felt like he was on top of the world, like he'd finished the hardest hunt ever.

"What you smiling for?" Sam asked as Dean entered the motel room.

"Hm?" He said, looking up from putting the clean clothes into piles of who each item belonged to, after all they all had a different duffel with their belongings in.

"What you smiling for?"

"Oh, no reason." Dean replied. It wasn't like he could tell his brother that he'd got into MIT (freaking MIT!).

* * *

It wasn't until Dean went to bed that night he realised that July was over, it was August. He clutched the letter as he felt his hopes of going to MIT slip away like a ghost in the night. But he tried to console himself by thinking, I'm not the one who's meant to go to university, Sam is. So long as he had the acceptance letter, he had the evidence that he was smart enough to enter.

It didn't ease his pain, and Dean felt a few tears slip down his cheeks.

* * *

The next day, they were moving on to Lincoln, Nebraska, to deal with an entire family of ghosts that had gone bad after a building firm had tried to knock down their family home.

Dean had the letter tucked safely in his pocket as they roared away from the Tucson down the highway. He watched the signs at they flashed by, showing that they were getting closer to the New Mexico/Arizona border.

* * *

At nightfall, they booked into a nondescript motel, it wasn't spectacular, but it wasn't the worst they'd had to sleep in. There were only two beds, so Dean had to share with Sam. It wasn't the first time, but Dean had gotten used to having his own bed at Bobby's.

That night, as Sam lay next to him, Dean unfolded his letter so he could re-read it in the dim light that the street lamp outside provided. It was his only achievement outside of hunting and looking after Sammy. He smiled before sliding it under his pillow and falling asleep.

* * *

Dean almost forgot the letter the next morning in the rush his Dad pushed them out of the door, but at the last minute he'd ran back into the motel room and snatched it from under the pillow. Like hell he was going to forget it.

As he jogged back to the car, he stashed the letter in his jacket pocket. He noticed in the brief time he'd been gone, Sam had taken his seat in shotgun next to Dad. Dean frowned, Sam should know that was his seat. Nonetheless, he let it slide, just this once.

He got in the Impala and they drove away, towards Arizona.

* * *

"Dean!" He dodged the chair and heard it slam against the wall behind him.

"Yeah?" He yelled, twisting away from the bookcase that had been pushed violently towards him.

"Catch!" Sam said, throwing a shotgun full of salt rounds at Dean.

He caught it and shot the ghost with a loud bang. It dissipated into the air. Dean relaxed, sliding down the wall, breathing heavily.

He smiled at his brother, "Thanks."


	3. Ramble On - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am *so* sorry about the time in took for me to update this. I had most of it written and then my laptop deleted the document (just this one though...mysterious...), so I had to re-write it. :(
> 
> But I did it! And now I've posted it!

 

Dean looked up from the research he was doing on the banshee case that was in Albuquerque to find Dad and Sam yelling at each other. Again. They'd been arguing for about six months, ever since Dad found Sam's acceptance letter for Stanford under his pillow. It was tiring for Dean, hearing his family tear into each other.

"Dean never went to college, and he's fine!" Dad yelled.

The room went silent as Dean looked at his brother to see what he had to say.

Sam took a breath, before saying, "Well, did you ever ask him?"

Their heads snapped sideways to look at Dean, who gulped, his two-year old acceptance letter feeling heavy in his pocket. They were both expecting him to back up their argument, but he couldn't. He couldn't back up one but then not the other, it would break his heart. He stood up and went towards the door.

After taking one look back, he darted out of the door and into the darkness of the night.

* * *

Dean glanced around the bar he'd gone into. It had been the first one he spotted after walking out of the door and down the street. As he drank the beer he'd brought using money gained in a past scam in a past state, he scanned the crowds. There was a group of women giggling in the corner, but a gang of young men was eyeing them up. It wasn't worth the trouble to try to seduce one of the women.

Instead, he chose to order another drink and proceeded to get drunk.

* * *

Dean stared at the motel door. He was relatively drunk. He needed to do something to get in.

But what was it?

"Knock!" He exclaimed.

He banged his fist on the door, hoping that his Dad would answer and not leave him outside all night.

The door creaked open and Dad was standing just inside.

"Dean?" Dad said as Dean stumbled in.

He fell back onto the nearest bed as his Dad asked, "Why are you drunk?"

"Your fighting. It gets to me," Dean stared up at the ceiling, unseeing and continued mumbling, "You know what else?"

"What Dean?" The bed lowered as his Dad sat next to him.

"The fact that my family,  _my family_ ," Dean stressed, "Doesn't even notice that, when they start fighting, I disappear to somewhere else, usually a bar."

"Oh Dean," His Dad sighed, "We didn't know that you could hear us. We'll keep it down next time."

He dragged himself up so he could look his father in the eyes, and breathed, "You know what would be better than anything else? You to stop fighting entirely."

Dean swore that as he drifted off to sleep, he heard his Dad say, "We can try."

* * *

Dean slammed his elbow into the banshee's face, causing it to stumble. He refused to give in, not when his gun was useless on the other side of the room. The banshee had knocked it out of Dean's hand when he'd first entered the room.

His Dad was counting on him to defeat this banshee so it wouldn't hurt anyone else. He was twenty-two, he'd had the training from his Dad, the same training that Sam had. But their Dad had deemed this hunt too much for his younger brother.

_BANG!_

Dean looked across the room as the banshee dropped to the floor with a thud. It had been his Dad who helped him. Dean didn't like the blank look on his Dad's face, like there wasn't anything he could do to make the situation better. His Dad bent down to pick something up off the floor by his feet.

"Come on." His Dad said, walking out of the room.

When they got to the Impala, Dad passed Dean his gun. It was like a knife stabbing him in the heart, holding the gun loosely in his hand as Dad drove them back to Sam. It was enough to make Dean wish that he was with Bobby, at least he would give Dean some praise, unlike his Dad.

* * *

The car pulled up outside the motel room and Dean got out of the passenger seat, still holding his gun in his hand. He could feel the indent of where it was pressing into his palm, but he didn't care.

As Dean opened the door, he was attacked by Sam, who hugged him tightly.

"How it'd go Dean?" Sam asked after letting go.

Dean let a smile form on his face as he told Sam how the hunt had gone. It was nice to tell Sam things, not that Dean would ever admit that.

But, even so, he couldn't help but feel as though he'd let his Dad down by not shooting the banshee. Knowing that had been impossible due to his gun being on the other side of the room didn't help to ease his feelings of guilt.

* * *

Two days after the successful banshee hunt, Dad entered the motel room and ordered Dean and Sam to pack. They were going to Denver for witches.

According to his Dad, it was easy enough: the witches were going after the men that had offended them. So, Dean and his Dad would have to find the hex bags before the witches killed anyone else. Two men had already died as a result of the witches, and Dad wanted Dean to help, saying that it would be  _"good experience"_. Dean didn't mention that he'd gone up against witches before, that he already knew how to deal with them. It was easier to keep quiet than to tell the truth, which was what Sam did. And Dean knew that was why they argued, because they were so similar in temperament.

Although, now that Dean thought about it as they sped down the highway northwards towards Denver, he hadn't heard them fight since that night he'd stumbled into the motel room drunk, about a week and a half ago. That either meant that they'd stopped fighting, which Dean doubted, or that they'd been fighting in secret, away from him. Dean preferred to think that they'd stopped fighting, but in his heart, he knew that wouldn't happen.

* * *

When they got to Denver, Dean was put in charge of getting Sam into the nearest school to the motel, as his Dad had to go out to investigate the deaths. He successfully got Sam into the school that was a few blocks down from the motel, using fake information and thanks to having watched his Dad do it several times before.

As Dean was twenty-two, he couldn't go to school, even if he secretly wanted to attend a math class. But he'd never mention that to Sam or his Dad. Instead, he wandered around town - he would've taken the Impala, but his Dad had taken it on the hunt - while wondering what he would do when he wasn't helping with the hunt.

Dean was all too aware of the lack of money in the family at the moment. So maybe, while he had the time, he would get a job. But what was he qualified to do? He had an well-worn acceptance letter to his name and that was it. Sure, he did the washing, but Dean couldn't imagine getting a  _job_  doing other people's laundry. It was bad enough doing his own family's washing after a messy hunt, he didn't want to do other people's.

A small sign on the brick wall caught Dean's eye. He stopped and read it.

_"Wanted!_   
_An experienced mechanic!_   
_No qualifications needed, you just need practical experience!_   
_Apply at..."_

He smiled, taking the notice off the wall and tucking it in his pocket with his acceptance letter.

* * *

Dean walked into the mechanics, whistling happily. It was his third day of work and he was enjoying it a lot. He'd made a couple of...well, he couldn't call them friends because they didn't know about the hunting, but acquaintances certainly. For the first time since he was young that the loneliness that was in his soul had been soothed. It was still there, but to a lesser extent.

He'd got the job after he'd mentioned in passing that he took care of his 1967 Chevy Impala, which impressed his work-mates. They'd been even more impressed the day after when he'd stopped by on his way to pick up groceries. They didn't know about the secret compartment in the boot which housed the hunting equipment.

"Hey guys!" Dean called, making his way over to the car propped up on a pair of jack stands that he'd left yesterday.

He got a variety of replies from the three men working around as he lay on the creeper and slid under the car.

It had taken a little convincing until his Dad had given in, admitting that they were low on cash, and that best way to earn it. Dad's only conditions were that he would take Sam to and from school, and as that fitted with his work schedule, Dean agreed.

* * *

After they'd been in Denver for a week, Dean realised that being a mechanic was simple. It just made sense, he got a broken car, he figured out what was wrong with it and then he fixed it accordingly. It was like math and hunting, it was another thing that made sense in Dean's brain.

Dean knew that he didn't have to have an acceptance letter to MIT to be a mechanic. Just that he looked after his car (his Dad had given it to him officially on his twenty-first birthday) would get him a job, but it was nice to know that he was clever enough to go to college.

He wiped his hands off. He didn't think Sam would appreciate his brother turning up to collect him from school with oil on his hands. Although Dean knew that once, in another state and school, he had picked Sam up with blood of that weeks monster on his hands. No one had noticed or commented, apart from Sam, who waited until they were in the car and then bitched at him for it on the way back to the motel.

* * *

Dean had taken the day off work to help his Dad finish off the witches.

"C'mon Dean!" Dad hissed from his place next to Dean, "We have to go."

He nodded, stood up and walked briskly up to the man in the white pick-up truck across the road. He knocked on the window and as it slid down slowly, he reached inside to the compartment nearest to him, feeling for the hex bag. He got it and walked down the road, as per the plan.

"Excuse me?" The man called down the street, "What did you just do?"

"Nothing." Dean said over his shoulder, ducking into the alleyway and digging the lighter out of his pocket. He flicked it on and let the flame devour the little, harmless-seeming hex bag.

"Did you do it?" His Dad asked as Dean got into the Impala.

"Yes Dad." He replied, thinking about how he would never work at the mechanics ever again in the town. It was sad, but that was the life of a hunter, constantly moving from town to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love a comment.


	4. Ramble On - Part 4

Dean watched the bus drive off into the distance, carrying his brother further away from him. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn't blame Sam for going to Stanford.

As he leant against the Impala, he wondered what it would've been like to go to MIT. He suspected that his dream, and Sam's were completely different. He would've done the work sure, but he would have also had some fun, go to a few parties and generally have a good time. Dean knew his brother well enough to say that he wouldn't go to parties in favour of re-reading his work due in a week. But that wasn't to say that Dean was  _jealous_  of Sam. He wasn't.

Maybe he was, but then, he thought it was justified, having got a letter from MIT.

His phone ringing yanked Dean out of his wishful thoughts.

He answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

_"Dean, where are you and Sam?"_

"Well," Dean took a deep breath before telling the truth, "I've just watched a bus set off for Stanford, taking Sam with it."

 _"STANFORD?!"_  His Dad yelled down the phone,  _"YOU LET HIM GO?!"_

Nodding even though his Dad couldn't see him, Dean replied, "Yeah, I did. He wanted to go, so I let him."

 _"IT'S NOT SAFE!"_ Dad said loudly,  _"You know that!"_

It was silent on both ends, then Dean said calmly, "I didn't want him to hate me for the rest of his life."

"If I can't trust you not to go behind my back like this, then I don't think I want you backing me up on hunts."

With that one sentence, his Dad ruined his emotions. He hung up, not caring what his Dad thought about his rudeness.

* * *

When Dean climbed out of the Impala, he noticed something outside of their motel room, on the pavement. As he got closer, he recognised the duffel. It was his.

It hit him all at once. It was his stuff, and his things were outside because his Dad had thrown him out.

Dean went over and collected his things, then he put them in the boot of the Impala. He was glad that his gun was already in there, because he wasn't sure if his Dad would have given him it back, seeing as his Dad had been the one to buy it for him.

He got into the drivers' seat and tapped the steering wheel, wondering where to go. With the amount of fake cards and hard cash on him, he could get another motel room.

Alternatively, he could go to a friendly face.

He put the car in gear and started to drive to Bobby's house in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. He knew he would always be welcome at Bobby's.

* * *

He had driven for three days straight to get to Bobby's. Putting his duffel bag on the porch, he knocked on the door, which opened to show Bobbby.

"Dean?"

"Hi Bobby." Dean said, glancing at the wooden floor briefly before looking back at Bobby.

"Why are you here Dean?" Bobby asked, opening the door further, "And where's Sam and your Dad?"

As Dean entered Bobby's house, leaving his duffel in the hallway, he gave Bobby an answer, "Well, Sam's should be at Stanford by now. And Dad... Dad's in Denver."

Bobby shut the door behind them and led the way into the kitchen where he gestured for Dean to sit down. As Dean watched from his seat, Bobby put the kettle on the stove and got two mugs out of the cupboard above. He sat across from Dean before asking, "Why have you and John split?"

Dean twisted his hands, "After I took Sam to the bus station, he kinda... threw me out of the motel?"

"Oh Dean..."

The kettle started to whistle, and Bobby got up to make to mugs of tea. He brought them over and sat down again.

They were silent as the drank their mug of tea. After finishing his mug, Bobby said, "You know you're always welcome to stay here, don't you Dean?"

He nodded, "I know Bobby."

* * *

It had been two months since Dean's Dad had chucked him out of that Denver motel room. Since then he'd been fixing the cars that were scattered around the yard, and running minor errands for Bobby. Books he needed for a case, obscure items required for spells, that kind of thing. Dean doesn't mind, it helps keep his mind off Dad and Sam, although he did wonder occasionally if his brother was doing alright at Stanford. Dean thought he would be.

As Dean saw Bobby enter the outbuilding out of the corner of his eye, and stopped working on the car, sliding from underneath it. He'd found it earlier on that morning, and had decided to fix it.

"Hey Bobby," He said, leaning against the car he was fixing, "Got anything for me to do?"

"Dean..." Bobby sighed heavily, "John's here."

He stared at the older hunter in shock, "Dad's here?"

Bobby nodded, "He seems pretty insisted on seeing you, but I could always distract him while you get away. If you want to that is."

Dean didn't really want to see his Dad, not after the last time he'd talked to him, Dad had told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't to be trusted to back him up on hunts, and that Dad didn't want him to.

"Distract him Bobby," He said as a turmoil of emotions rolled through him, "I've... I've got to go."

* * *

While Bobby did God knows what to distract his Dad, Dean snuck out to the Impala with his green duffel clutched in his hand, and the keys in the other. Quietly he climbed in, depositing the duffel in the passenger seat, and started the engine. Looking back quickly at the back entrance, he set off.

Within a few minutes he was down the drive and turned left up the road. He felt kind of bad about running from his own Dad, but then he had hurt Dean badly. Not that Dean thought his Dad had noticed. In his mind, Dean knew that their Dad loved them, he just didn't really know how to show it.

* * *

A couple of hours later and Dean was filling the Impala up at a random gas station. As he went inside to buy himself a sandwich and a drink, he reflected on how the Impala was the only thing that had stayed by him no matter what. He paid and went back out to her. He didn't plan to stop again until nightfall at least, and even then he might continue for a few hours.

* * *

Dean had hit the South Dakota/Minnesota border and he felt tired, and no wonder, he'd driven over an entire state more or less. For about ten miles, he looked for a motel where he could park and then crash for a few hours.

Eventually, he found one and parked his car in the car park. He stumbled sleepily into the reception, carrying his bag.

"One room please." He said, addressing the woman behind the desk. He pushed a credit card across the desk.

The blonde-haired woman smiled and said, "And how long will you be staying with us?"

"Just one night." Dean replied, leaning against the desk.

"Alright then," She said, having swiped Dean's card on the machine, "Thank you Mr Jones."

Dean nodded, taking his card and the key off her. He went to room fifteen and went to bed.

* * *

The sun was rising, and Dean blinked awake, crinkling up his eyes, not quite awake yet. He got up, had a shower, packed his belongings (not that he used many, he was only there a night) and went to the Impala, leaving the room key on the desk as there hadn't been anyone at the reception.

With the Impala's tyres squealing, Dean set off, heading towards Duluth.

* * *

When he got to Duluth, he booked a room in the cheapest motel he could find and called Bobby.

"Bobby? You there?" Dean said.

 _"Dean? Where are you?"_  Bobby asked.

"I'm in Duluth, Minnesota, anyway that's not really why I called..." Dean took a breath before asking, "What did my Dad want?"

_"Dean, he says he's found the thing that killed your mother when Sam was six months old."_

Absently, he twisted the silver ring around his finger while he thought about it. After a few minutes, Dean asked Bobby what it was.

_"Well, your Dad says it was a demon - Azazel he says it's called - and he wants you to help him to track it down and kill it."_

"The hell Bobby? A demon?"

 _"A demon."_  Bobby stated.

"Huh. I just never expected it to be such a... normal problem." Dean said.

 _"Well, that was all he had to tell you,"_  Bobby paused,  _"He was insistent on knowing where you were."_

"You didn't tell him did you? Oh wait, you didn't know where I was until a few minutes ago. Ignore that question."

Bobby laughed,  _"Well that's all I had to tell you, so I'm going to go now. Bye Dean."_

"Bye Bobby."

He lay on the bed and tried to get his mind around the subject.

His Dad had found the demon that had killed his mother, and wanted his help killing it. But there was a catch, there had to be, there always was. There was no way this was a normal demon, it had to be special in some way, and his Dad probably hadn't figured out how.


	5. Ramble On - Part 5

 

Dean hadn't want to force Sam into coming with him, but he wanted to find their Dad. And the quickest way to do that was to get his smart, younger brother to help. He had no problem with admitting that Sam was smart, smarter than himself maybe.

As the Impala rounded a corner, Dean looked quickly at his sleeping brother in the passenger seat. It seemed strange to remember that it was three, almost four years since he let Sam get on to that bus to California. But now here he was, sleeping in the Impala like the past few years hadn't happened.

Dean smiled, it was good to have his brother back, even if it was just for a weekend.

* * *

Sam didn't go back to Stanford, not after Jess's death and funeral. Dean knew both events tore Sam up more than he was letting on. It wasn't just the nightmares, Dean was sure.

Although Dean wanted Sam to go back, he understood why Sam wouldn't want to. That was how he got a partner after working alone for about three years. It was a change, having another pair of eyes looking out for him on hunts, but a good one.

Dean knew that he could trust Sam with his life.

* * *

"Hey Sam?" Dean said, cleaning his gun as he sat on the bed nearest the motel door.

They were relaxing after a hunt - this one had been vengeful ghosts, nothing too hard - and Dean wanted to know what Stanford had been like before his girlfriend burnt on the ceiling above him.

"Yeah Dean?" Sam replied, barely looking up from his laptop.

"What was it like at Stanford?" He asked, glancing to Sam. He was still unsure if his brother would want to talk about  _before_.

"What d'you mean?"

"I mean..." Dean paused, putting his gun down - it was clean enough now - and going to sit on the other chair, near his brother, "Like, what did you do, and what were the lectures like, and what lectures did you have..."

He was interrupted by Sam.

"Whoa, like you  _genuinely_ ," His brother looked shocked, "Want to know what it was like at college?"

Dean nodded and thought,  _I just wish that I'd gone._

"You wish that you'd gone to college?"

"I said that out-loud didn't I?"

His brother nodded, "Yeah."

"Crap."

"Care to explain Dean?" Sam asked in a gentle voice.

Without saying anything, Dean reached into his pocket for the folded, well-worn acceptance letter, unfolded it, and gave it to his brother.

"What's..." Sam started, looking down at the letter, reading it quickly, "Oh. This is your..."

"Acceptance letter for MIT? Yeah."

Sam finished reading it, and passed it back to Dean, "Why didn't you?"

"Why didn't I what?" Dean re-folded his letter and put it back in his pocket.

"Why didn't you go?"

"Because I forgot," Dean could see that his brother was confused, so he clarified, "I'd put it in my pocket and by the time I got around to doing the washing, where I found it, it was already August."

Sam was sympathetic, "Oh Dean... You could've gone."

"I know," Dean said, "But I thought that if I stayed and was the hunter, then you could have your chance at college."

"You gave up your chance so I could have a chance?"

"Yeah, I did. It was worth it."

"Thank you Dean."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of "Ramble On", and what a journey it's been. I loved writing this - tell me if you liked reading it in a comment.


End file.
